Cleaning House
by Pivot
Summary: Armada: Dirt Boss takes on the rest of the base, and their slagging power hose too.


_To understand this story and the reasons behind it, you should know that in any sane world I would be kept away from fun pieces of equipment, that the Adventure Team kicks aft and that the Emergency Team are far, far too pleasant and endearing for the sake of Public Health. I also have cause to suspect that far too much of Transfandom is unaware of their existence. Anyone failing to recognise Dirt Boss, Mirage and Downshift should go and check their repertoire of Plot Devices. _

_See the Skyboom Shield? Yes? Now forget everything you know about it/them. There you go._

_This is what it/they **really** does._

**Cleaning House**

_(Or: One Bot's Fight To Save His Fuel Stains.)_

The Minicon was worried. He was running. And he was well aware that it was only a matter of time before his pursuers caught up with him.

Dirt Boss skidded to a halt and risked a glance around the corner. It was a good thing he did: _they_ were there, discussing how to find him. He drew back and wondered what to do next, and then he noticed the faint shimmer in the air. The Minicon swatted at it, and then turned with it as it darted behind him, coming face to face with the yellow and black 'bot as he decloaked.

"Mirage," he whispered, annoyed, backing away slightly from the other Minicon. "Don't _do_ that! I thought you were… someone else."

Mirage gave his teammate an odd look, going to peer around the corner. He only got a brief glance of the talking 'bots before Dirt Boss yanked him back, safely out of sight. "What was _that_ for?"

"They could have seen you," snapped the yellow and grey Minicon.

"So?"

"So, the last thing I, personally, want is their coming this way and spotting me," Dirt Boss grumbled. "I told you the Autobots would be nothing but trouble."

Mirage simply shook his head, taking in the sight of his team-mate radiating a mixture of tension and defiance that was really quite amazing, if only for succeeding in showing itself through the layer of grease and grime that, as usual, coated Dirt Boss's shell.

"I can assure you, this has nothing to do with the Autobots," he said, and leaned around the corner again, waving. "I've found him!"

Dirt Boss gaped at him, shocked and betrayed, although it was difficult to tell under the crust of mud and oil caked onto his exterior. "_Mirage!"_

"Sorry," the other Minicon said calmly, "but it's for the good of the team." He shrugged, trying to inch closer without his victim's noticing. "Sometimes a 'bot's got to take things into their own hands. And yes, even I have to take their part this time."

Dirt Boss backed away, glaring at the ex-ally as sounds behind his usually tolerant leader heralded the approach of enemy reinforcements. "Traitor," he snapped accusingly, and ran.

Mirage heard him transform after he was out of sight. "What a dramatic," he muttered in disbelief.

---

There were few places where Dirt Boss thought he might find sanctuary, and he scrambled into one of them now as he transformed back to robot mode, clattering against the table where a silver Minicon was working.

If Makeshift had had a nose, he would have wrinkled it as he looked up at the angry, worried, thoroughly grimy 'bot. "What now?" he asked, sounding mildly exasperated: the Minicon often suspected that the only reason Red Alert hadn't gone entirely mad was the talent of his, Makeshift's, team for turning up where the trouble was and dealing with it before word of the problem reached the Autobots.

"You have to hide me! They're after me!"

"Can you blame them?" asked the Emergency Minicon dryly, looking pointedly at the oily smudges Dirt Boss's hands were leaving on the tabletop.

"This is _war_, Makeshift!" hissed the other.

"I'm well aware of that, thank you," replied the medic calmly, turning away to find something with which to wipe the surface. "It's all I ever hear about from Downshift these days. That's why both of my team-mates are out looking for you with the others…" He heard a sputter from behind his back and turned around again in time to see Dirt Boss disappearing through the door.

"Really, now," murmured Makeshift, and went to wipe the table.

---

It was three hours since this chase had started, and they hadn't found him yet. Dirt Boss snickered to himself. He'd outwitted them this time, hiding in the one place where they would never think to look for him.

Still, he kept quiet when he heard voices drawing closer to him. There was no need to take risks just now.

"I don't suppose you could have, say, caught hold of him back there instead of letting him get away?"

"Yeah, well, when I saw the state he was in, all I could think of was calling for help," came the sour reply. "Besides, I know him: he'll get tired eventually." Dirt Boss grimaced in the darkness as he recognised the voice: it was Mirage.

"Of course, if you had, I might not have gotten the chance to do something worthwhile for once," continued the first voice. "Although this isn't exactly a 'search and rescue mission', is it?"

Dirt Boss frowned: he knew this one, he was sure, if only he could remember who exactly it was. Not having a chance to get to know everyone was one of the disadvantages of being shifted from base to base every other battle (or so it felt to him).

"We're rescuing him from himself," said Mirage shortly. "If you can find him, that is."

"Hardly difficult," shrugged the first voice. "He's right here." Dirt Boss tensed, ready to run. He didn't dare use his vehicle mode: for once his condition was a liability to him rather than a delight. After all, even if nobody were around to hear him rattling his way through the corridors, the leaks would surely lead them to him.

"Are you sure?" Mirage sounded doubtful, and rightly so, the fugitive thought. He hadn't picked this place by accident.

"Do these sensors ever lie?" The other Minicon sounded indignant. Dirt Boss groaned inwardly, finally placing the voice as being Prowl, the Emergency Team's

search expert. Cursing investigators and their blasted radar, Dirt Boss waited until some foolhardy person opened the door, and bolted.

When he had picked himself up, so that he was no longer sprawling across the other Minicon, Mirage looked at the spot in which the fugitive had hidden and expressed mild surprise at his partner's choice of location.

"It's a smegging cleaning closet!" he said angrily, speaking more to himself than to the miniature pursuit car beside him, who was watching with interest and didn't even appear to mind that he'd just had another 'bot tossed onto his hood.

"He's learning," said Prowl happily.

Blurr and Incinerator were working quietly, until Dirt Boss came tearing into the room, shouted "Help! They're all after me! All of them! Help!" Then he caught sight of Incinerator and yelped. "You! You're out to get me! Gah!"

He ran out of the door again. The two stared after him, Incinerator trying not to laugh.

"Paranoid," observed Blurr, dismissing this fresh nonsense on Everyone Else's part.

"Nah," his partner managed over a muffled snicker, "everyone really is after him."

The Autobot wondered whether he should be bothered by this information. "Why?"

Incinerator told him.

Blurr thought about this.

"About time," he said.

---

Dirt Boss slowed down at a handy-looking side passage and was rewarded with a face-full of water from Firebot's hose. Ducking away from the red Minicon, he slipped through a door to his left (_Didn't think about that, did you? _he thought).

Then he saw the 'bots waiting for him. Dirt Boss looked around and realised that he was cornered.

"Well, come on, then!" he yelled at the Adventure Team. Iceberg and Dune Runner hesitated, seeing his expression and wondering if they had bitten off more than they cold chew, figuratively speaking.

Ransack, on the other hand, had no such inhibitions and obliged with gusto, enthusiastically tackling the annoyed Race Minicon. Perhaps encouraged by their leader's example (but most probably through unwillingness to let his impulsiveness get him too badly damaged), his two partners followed suit. Between the three of them, they succeeded in subduing their quarry fairly well; Ransack and Iceberg, the stronger members of the group, held him back against one wall, while Dune Runner called the other searchers to their location.

Dirt Boss watched sullenly as everyone who'd been chasing him arrived in ones and twos. Downshift, his other teammate, was one of the first to show up; the captive 'bot gave his partner a hurt look and received a snicker of barely repressed glee in return. Dirt Boss snorted irritably as Downshift moved out of his range of vision, talking earnestly with Dune Runner and Firebot - pinned as he was, the grey and yellow 'bot couldn't see past the pair holding his arms on either side. After a moment he heard a few clinks and scraping sounds from their direction. No matter how hard he strained his audios, Dirt Boss found that he couldn't make out what they were saying over the noise of their fiddling with whatever it was they had got now. Once or twice he frowned, thinking he could hear a disturbingly familiar hissing sound.

He knew why he was here, of course. He just wished they'd hurry up and get it over with. Even Ransack and Iceberg had gotten bored and were chatting with Prowl about the last battle. Normally Dirt Boss would have joined in, particularly as he, unlike them, had actually been present at it. Right now, though, he was feeling too disgruntled to talk to them.

Finally, the three walked back into view, Firebot and Dune Runner heading to stand with their respective teams. Downshift, however, remained: Dirt Boss goggled when he saw what his teammate was pointing at him.

"Isn't this a bit... extreme?" he managed. _Scrap, but I don't like the thought of what THAT'S gonna do to my shell._

"Yep," Downshift grinned, taking careful aim at the squirming Minicon, who felt the self-appointed guards on either side of him brace themselves in preparation for the blast about to head their way.

"Hold on," interrupted Mirage, putting one hand on Downshift's shoulder and holding out the other for the object. "I'm this team's leader. He's my responsibility: I'll do it."

"Nope." Downshift didn't move. "Sorry, but this one's mine. You got to go to meetings instead of cleaning out our quarters, remember."

Mirage nodded and stepped away. "Good point."

"Excuse me!" shouted Dirt Boss, still unable to free himself from the Adventure Minicons' determined grip. "Helpless victim at the mercy of ruthless dictators here!"

"Yes, why don't you put him out of our misery?" commented Dune Runner on the other side of Iceberg, tetchily attempting to brush away the smears of oil and greasy filth that had transferred from Dirt Boss to his shell in the scuffle. Despite knowing from experience that it would only spread the grime, the blue-visored Minicon instinctively reacted to all dust and dirt as if it were his beloved sand. That, and he always did have a natural inclination to spread the muck around.

"Of course," said Mirage. Downshift grinned behind his faceplate at the peeved Dirt Boss, and pulled the trigger.

---

Smokescreen had gotten used to the antics of the increasing number of Minicons in the base – well, more or less. By now he'd discovered that the best tactic was to leave them to sort things out among themselves, especially since most of the teams in particular preferred to deal with things within their own groups.

When he heard the muffled yelps from the door he was passing, however, he decided to check that they weren't actually tearing each other apart. Which was the reason that he walked into the room to find about half the base's Minicons trying to act casual, although there was a hose stretching across the room from a tank that hadn't been in there last time he checked, and four of them were very, very wet.

Smokescreen looked from Prowl, Mirage and Firebot, all of whom were doing their level best to look innocent, to Downshift, who wasn't even trying to hide the smirk on his face, to the Adventure Team, who were suddenly extremely preoccupied with the state of their dripping armour, to Dirt Boss, who was standing between Iceberg and Ransack and looking either stunned or extremely angry, or possibly angry because he was stunned. And then back to Downshift, and the high-pressure car hose in his hands, which, incidentally, rather resembled a human machine gun.

Pat of him thought, _that looks fun_, and then he glanced back at the sodden, vengeful, _clean_ Dirt Boss, standing up against the wall with rivulets of what was either ink or heavily polluted water feeding the growing puddles and streams around his feet, and was sure he knew what was going on. He was also very glad. Maybe now the humans would top complaining about the smell.

"Oh," he said straight-faced, backing carefully out of the door. "Er, just checking that you didn't need anything or- well, uh, just carry on then."

As Prowl noted to his teammates later, Smokescreen was the very model of self-control. He didn't laugh at _all_ until he was safely down the hall, three hundred metres away.

---

"All right," muttered Dirt Boss sulkily, when the Autobot had gone, "can I go now?"

Dune Runner looked up sharply, although relieved that the jet of water had removed the bulk of the grime from his armour (mud he could stand, snow and slush he put up with, sand he delighted in. Oil and Dirt Boss Filth on him, now, there he drew the line.) "No you cannot. You're far from clean and I want some kind of payback."

Dirt Boss considered making a break for the door, but he could see Firebot positioning himself in front of it, and the Adventure Team were still ready to grab him if he tried. "All right," he said resignedly. "What more do I have to do?"

"Stand still," said Makeshift, coming into the room. Dirt Boss frowned - and then he recognised the objects that the medic produced from behind his back and handed around the group.

"Don't worry," crooned Downshift as he advanced on his partner, sponge and brush at the ready. "We'll soon have you clean, old boy."

"And then I want to see you in the repair bay," added Makeshift, disapprovingly eyeing the wreck that his wayward comrade had the temerity to consider a good condition for armour. "Much as I appreciate your preference for maintaining your frame constantly on the verge of falling apart, it is hardly in anyone's best interests to let you have your way in this matter."

"Which means," said Firebot, setting his hose to 'rinse', "that if you miss any more maintenance appointments, Makeshift will be sure to call Prowl here and send him to haul you out of whatever crevice you try to hide your rattletrap shell in."

"Oooh, yes." Prowl nodded enthusiastically. "Sounds good to me!"

Mirage shook his head as Dirt Boss's disgusted spluttering raised itself above the general noise of scrubbing and Downshift's merry chortling. "For Primus's sake," he murmured, watching his willing volunteers attempt to clean the truly filthy bot, aided by an occasional spray of water, courtesy of Firebot, "every single time we try to get him clean…"

The Race Minicon trailed off, shaking his head in despair at life and the people in it. Then he picked up a sponge and went to help the others.

---

_Disclaimer-that-for-some-reason-is-at-the-bottom-today: I don't own any of them. I wish I did, but at least I get to write them… (eyes Adventure/Emergency Teams longingly until they squirm uncomfortably)_

_If I knew why the Race Team was ever involved, I might tell you. On the other hand, I've just realised that this story inadvertently allowed me to reach one of my pet goals – to write a fic involving at least one member of a combiner team without once mentioning or referring to that combiner during the story. (Ticks item off list, grinning proudly.) Personally, I like to blame the Armada MTMTE entries for making me curious about the characters, and the cartoon for not giving them screen time in the first place and thus letting me use one to write with the other. _

_If I knew why washing my mother's car gave me the urge to write a silly, semi-coherent fic about someone I'd never been inclined to write before, I might have stopped it earlier. It's been edited and re-edited since, but still… feel free to review and tell me what I should or shouldn't have done._


End file.
